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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23544769">An Ache Sweeter Than The Chain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield'>cloverfield</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, NSFW Meme, Post-Series, Safe Sane and Consensual, Wind Him Tight &amp; Watch Him Go, chain bondage, restraint and denial</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:15:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23544769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know these chains won’t hold me,” says Fai, in that easy way of his. “Not if I don’t want them to.” </p><p>"I know."</p><p>Kurogane steps back, and for a moment allows himself to admire the tableau: the dark leather against soft pale skin, the deep red of the cushion Fai kneels on, the taut and trembling strength in his shoulders, the lean muscle of Fai’s arms corded tight where they’re pulled back behind him and wrapped in the cold steel that drapes from the ceiling.</p><p>“But you want to be here, so you won’t break them.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Ache Sweeter Than The Chain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>NSFW meme fill. The prompt was 'KuroFai + chain bondage'.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know these chains won’t hold me,” says Fai, in that easy way of his. “Not if I don’t want them to.” His eyes are slitted, lazy, the smile on his face slow and wide and utterly self-satisfied.</p><p>Kurogane’s fingers slide between his skin and the cuffs around skinny wrists, checking for the comfort of the fit. The fingertips of one hand feel the body-warmed velvet and the drumming of Fai’s pulse. “I know.”</p><p>He steps back, and for a moment allows himself to admire the tableau: the dark leather against soft pale skin, the deep red of the cushion Fai kneels on, the taut and trembling <em>strength </em>in his shoulders, the lean muscle of Fai’s arms corded tight where they’re pulled back behind him and wrapped in the cold steel that drapes from the ceiling.</p><p>“But you want to be here, so you won’t break them.”</p><p>“Mm,” says Fai, which could mean anything; which Kurogane knows to mean he’s happy here, right now, in this moment. “True. So how are we playing this, Kuro-sama? Am I supposed to <em>watch</em>?”</p><p>There’s a little bit of hunger in the last word, a throaty huskiness that pricks the best kind of chill down Kurogane’s spine, and he shucks himself out of his shirt and rolls it down his arms to the heaviness of Fai’s gaze on bared skin.</p><p>“If you want.” They both know Fai wants.</p><p>“<em>Well</em>,” drawls Fai, lashes fluttering as the dark cloth of Kurogane’s trews slips down his legs with the same lack of fanfare. “I suppose Kuro-sama had best give me something worth watching.”</p><p>It’s not often Kurogane does this, and it’s not shame that makes him go slow - to take the time to warm his own touch with the heat of his skin, metal fingers cold then cool then blood-hot where they patter across the flat of his belly, the arc of his hip, stroking slow between his thighs.</p><p>The mattress of the bed is too soft, too giving beneath his weight, but the covers are warm, pleasant where they rub against old scars, and it’s easy, <em>easy </em>to tip his head back and let his knees bend and let each breath come deep, opening up his chest and down into his gut as heat coils there, blooming open beneath the familiarity of his own touch, beneath the heat of Fai’s gaze where it lingers.</p><p>The liquid-gold slick of the oil over his fingertips - the one that Fai prefers, that Fai makes himself, pools it from his magic and pours it from his fingers into the glass vials he likes to keep tucked up his sleeves - is startling and wet, but the silky glide of it feels just like it always does, too good to do anything but groan into the push of his own fingers up and in.</p><p>Fai is still but he’s not quiet, whining a low and keening noise in his throat that Kurogane can just barely hear; it stings on bare skin, draws it tight, brings the hair on his arms and legs to standing at the sound of it.</p><p>Kurogane doesn’t stop, but doesn’t go faster either - takes his time as they only rarely have the luxury to do (and this, this here, everything in this room is <em>luxury</em>), and it’s not until he hears the chains jangle, discordant and sharp, that he quickens from one finger to two.</p><p>“<em>You</em>,” says Fai - an aborted, half-whisper of a growl- and then says nothing else for a long moment that Kurogane stretches out slow beneath a stroke that makes his toes curl and his breath come heavy. “Hn. <em>Kuro-sama</em>.”</p><p>The chains rattle again, more forcefully this time, and when Kurogane looks up - looks down his own body, skin prickling with sweat and the slick marks of his own oiled hands, lamplight pooling shadows on the landscape of worn skin and torn scars, hard muscle taut and every inch of himself aching with arousal - Fai’s figure between the frame of his legs is a trembling statue, head bowed and shoulders heaving, <em>heaving</em>.</p><p>Fai whines again, lower this time, and beneath the shade of his fringe his eyes are molten gold. His chest rises too quick, the flat of his stomach hollowing out as each breath falls; the splay of his knees falls open to the rising strain between them, and his arms trembling in the chains that bind them.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” says Fai, as breathless as the swoop in Kurogane’s gut. But they’re not done, and Fai is too far from yielding.</p><p>“Not yet.” </p><p>Metal creaks: a warning.</p><p>“I said, not <em>yet</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me~</p><p>[Rihanna.gif]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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